


Obsession

by pterawaters



Series: Derek's Sweet Sixteen [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Both Derek and Stiles are in High School, Creepy Kate Argent, Established Relationship, M/M, Ptera's TW Bingo, Slight noncon mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't like how much time his boyfriend has been spending with the new school nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obsession

Stiles hasn't heard there's a new nurse at school until he gets an elbow to the nose during History and has to go see her to avoid turning the classroom into a virtual murder scene with the way his nose won't stop bleeding. She's far too mean and rough for someone as young as she is, and her name tag says, "Ms. Argent."

Shuddering at the thought her name evokes, Stiles spits blood into the paper cup she gave him and asks, "Hey, are you married to the principal? Is that how you got this job? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, you've got awful bedside manner."

"He's my father," she replies dryly, shoving a wad of Kleenex at him and taking the used ones in her glove-covered hand. Stiles pinches his sore nose again, hoping the bleeding will stop soon.

By lunch he's recovered and showing Derek and Scott with his hands exactly how big Ms. Argent's boobs are. Erica punches him in the arm and Allison flicks his ear. "What?"

"That's my aunt!" Allison reminds him and oh, yeah. Stiles had forgotten that the principal was Allison's grandfather.

"It's no wonder none of the girls would date you, Stiles," says Erica with a red-lipped smirk. "I don't even know why Derek likes you."

Stiles makes an indignant noise and Derek laughs, saying, "Maybe I don't like competition."

"Oh, thanks," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. This must be what he gets for trying to keep his friends abreast of the news. Ha. Abreast.

~~**~~

That evening at the lacrosse game, Stiles warms the bench as usual, but this week he blames his bruised nose for Coach benching him. In the rare moments he's not watching the game (in general, though specifically his boyfriend's ass in lacrosse shorts more often than not), Stiles notices Ms. Argent sitting with Principal Argent. Yeah, he can see the resemblance now that they're sitting side-by-side. The principal is speaking to Greenberg's dad, but Ms. Argent watches the field with this intensity that makes a shiver crawl up Stiles' spine. At the blow of the whistle, the team comes in to go over the next play and Stiles watches Ms. Argent track them in. It seems like maybe she's focused on one player in particular, though Stiles can't tell which one.

Three plays later, he's sure she's focused on Derek. The realization makes Stiles feel sick to his stomach, but he's not sure why.

After the game, when Stiles is done horsing around with Scott in the locker room and goes looking for Derek to go on their traditional post-game milkshake-and-makeout date, he finds Derek talking with Ms. Argent. She has a hand on Derek's upper arm and the teeth shining through her smile are white enough to blind. Derek's ears are flushed, which could very well be the normal embarrassed reaction Derek gets when he has to talk to anyone older than eighteen, but it makes Stiles intensely jealous nonetheless. Stiles hurries toward them and slips his arm across Derek's shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Hey! What are we talking about?"

Derek turns to smile brightly at Stiles. "Just the last few plays I made. Kate thinks I have a real shot at team captain next year, even though we're only going to be juniors."

Stiles doesn't miss the way _Kate_ sneers at him in distaste before hiding the expression when Derek turns back to face her. "Sure you do, baby," Stiles says, squeezing Derek closer. "You're way better than Jackson." He kisses Derek, maybe a little more intensely than he normally does in front of other people. "Okay. As much fun as it is imagining that far-off future, it's getting late. Ready to go?"

Derek's face falls and Stiles gets that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach again. "We had plans!" He turns to _Kate_ and says, "I'm sorry, I can't come out with you and Coach. We'll have to talk about next year some other time."

"Okay," _Kate_ replies with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "But I'm sure Danny Mahealani wouldn't mind having this conversation instead."

Stiles glares at the woman, because _really_? She's really pulling this douche move on Derek? Before his boyfriend can feel any guiltier than he already looks, Stiles says, "No, it's okay. You should go. We'll hang out tomorrow."

Derek looks like he's going to argue until Stiles stares him into submission. It actually works, which means Derek must've really, really wanted to go. Stiles kisses him goodbye and goes home alone, trying not to be pissed off and disappointed. He fails.

~~**~~

Head hanging backward off the side of Derek's bed, Stiles finishes reading the article in his magazine. Or at least he tries, but before long the sight of Derek's forearms moving as he types out an essay distracts him. Stiles turns over onto his stomach and nips at the side of Derek's neck. Derek shies away and says, "C'mon. Not now. You know I've got to finish this."

"Yeah." Stiles sighs in disappointment. Derek has been busy enough lately, between homework and the extra lacrosse practices Coach has given him, that Stiles hasn't been allowed to touch him for six days. Being in the room with Derek and not touching him is torture. And yeah, Derek's family is home, so the most they'd do if they could is curl up together and watch TV and kiss occasionally, but Stiles misses that too.

Stiles looks over Derek's shoulder at his essay. They have different history teachers, so it looks like Derek is still on the Civil War, while Stiles' class had their test on the industrial revolution just yesterday. He reads over Derek's shoulder and after a moment says, "You know, I could finish that up for you, if you want. Speed things along?"

"I don't need help," Derek says in his pissed off voice. Honestly, Stiles thinks Derek's pissed off because he's gone a week without getting laid. It's certainly put Stiles in the almost-but-not-quite-ready-to-kill zone. "I just need you to shut up and let me finish. Please?"

"My curfew's in less than an hour." Stiles points out.

"So?"

Stiles feels a bubble of anger welling up in his chest and he knows he's about to start saying some fairly shitty things. So Stiles walks out of Derek's room without a word. He turns back once, but Derek is still focused on his work. Stiles doesn't even send his regular good night text, he's so upset.

Stiles waits until lunch the next day for Derek to come to him and apologize, but he doesn't. He doesn't even meet Stiles' eyes in the hallway. So at lunchtime, Stiles waylays Derek on the way to the cafeteria, pulling him into one of the alcoves full of volleyball trophies. "What gives?"

Derek's nostrils flare and he glares at Stiles for half a second before turning his head and staring a thousand yards past Becky Davidson's MVP photo from 1997. His jaw clenches, the muscle bulging so fiercely.

Stiles groans. "What? The silent treatment? Because I could tell you didn't want me — your awesome, loving boyfriend — _distracting_ you anymore? Yeah, so don't talk to me. See how well that works out, dickhead."

Derek's lip curls in a snarl, but his eyebrows tilt together and his eyes go shiny, like they're working on a couple tears. Before Stiles can say anything more than, "No, I'm —" Derek takes off. "Sorry!" Stiles calls after him. "Baby, I'm sorry! I didn't mean that! You're not a dickhead!"

Derek doesn't stop and as soon as Stiles realizes Derek is heading for the nurse's room instead of the cafeteria, someone beside him clears their throat. Stiles turns to see principal Argent. "Oh, hello, sir."

Expression patronizingly concerned, Principal Argent says, "Shouldn't you be at lunch, Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles drops his head and shuffles in the opposite direction of where he wants to go. "Yeah."

~~**~~

Stiles jumps when he hears Scott's voice in his ear. "Why are you spying on Derek?"

Stiles faked a twisted ankle to get out of lacrosse practice and now he's under the bleachers, watching Ms. Argent speak into Derek's ear every time he returns to the bench for more than ten seconds. Stiles hasn't been able to hear what she tells him, despite cramming himself under the bleachers as close to them as possible. 

When Scott speaks to him, Stiles barely manages to keep from bashing his head on the underside of the bleachers and drawing Ms. Argent's attention. He squirms back until he can stand up and beckons Scott away. "Because. I don't like how much attention that Argent chick is giving Derek."

"Or," Scott says, rolling his eyes, "you just can't stand it when Derek gives you the silent treatment and you're making up reasons not to apologize yet."

"That's," Stiles splutters. "Okay, that's entirely possible. But not what's happening right now."

Scott gives Stiles a harsh look.

"Hiding under the bleachers is perfectly reason-" Stiles purses his lips and glares at Scott. "I didn't give _you_ this much shit when you and Allison were-"

"Yes, you did," Scott reminds him. Scott steps forward and claps Stiles on the shoulder pad a few times, probably harder than necessary. "Now if you want to get laid again and get rid of all this crazy, go apologize."

Stiles scrubs his hand over his hair and sighs. Scott is right. "Fine."

Stiles waits until practice is over and approaches Derek in the locker room where _Kate_ can't interrupt. "Hey," he says.

Derek doesn't even look at Stiles.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I got pissed about how busy you've been lately and I'm sorry I called you a dickhead and I'm sorry I didn't text you good night. I hate it when you don't talk to me."

Derek's been staring into his locker this whole time, his jaw clenched. When Stiles finishes his speech, Derek's face softens and his shoulders slump. "Making captain is important to me."

"I know that," Stiles insists, hazarding a hand on Derek's arm. 

"I mean, if I get recruited to play in college... My parents will be so proud."

Stiles knows Derek means his parents will finally notice him. "I'll be proud, too. I'll go around campus telling everyone my boyfriend is the best, hottest player on the team."

Derek flashes wide eyes at Stiles, "You-? You want to go to the same college? Even if I got recruited to somewhere you hated?"

Stiles knows he's being corny, but he replies, "I won't hate it because I love you and I don't ever want to break up, not even for college."

Derek tackles Stiles with a kiss, wrapping his arms around Stiles tightly. Stiles laughs, kissing and hugging him back. Jackson yells at them to get a room.

~~**~~

Stiles watches Derek squirm in his seat during homeroom and grins. While he's sorry he made Derek uncomfortable, Stiles also feels like gloating to everyone in school. That's right. He fucked his boyfriend so hard last night he is still feeling it this morning. Derek catches Stiles staring and flashes him a quick, embarrassed smile.

Stiles' next class is in the direct opposite corner of the school from Scott's and Derek's next class, so he's walking alone, riding high on left over endorphins. He doesn't even see Kate Argent coming. Suddenly she's growling in his ear as they walk. "Don't you dare treat him like that before a game. Derek needs to be in perfect physical condition, not _limping_."

Incredulous, Stiles replies, "Whaa-?"

"As the school's resident medical professional, I'm going to have Finstock recommend all players abstain for at least a week before games."

"But, our games are a week apart." Stiles complains. Like hell is he giving up sex for the rest of the season. "And you don't even _have_ a medical degree. I looked it up. You took a _seminar_ after your father hired you!" Yeah, that's right. Stiles did his homework. "Booyah."

"You're a disgusting little cretin," Ms. Argent replies. "You shouldn't even be talking to Derek. You'll infect him with loser."

"You shouldn't be so old and creepy," Stiles hisses, reminding himself that the punishment for punching a teacher in the face is automatic expulsion. "Find a guy your own age to obsess over, Cruella."

Stiles marches into his French class and gives Monsieur Bourne a high-five. The teacher is surprised, but pleased and says, " _Bonjour, Monsieur Soleil!_ "

Stiles almost corrects him until he realizes the teacher didn't get his name wrong, he's commenting on Stiles' sunny disposition. " _Merci_!"

~~**~~

Two weeks later, on a Saturday afternoon, Stiles is wasting time avoiding his homework when someone tries to open the front door, finds it locked, and pounds three times. Stiles isn't expecting anyone until Derek gets off work at four, so he calls out, "Dad! Door!"

"It's for you, dumbass," Stiles hears his father call up the stairs from the TV room.

Before Stiles can untangle himself from his blanket fort and find a less-gross shirt to wear, the front door opens and someone heavy rushes up the stairs and stops in the doorway. 

Derek shivers and sticks his hands in his hoodie pockets. "Oh, god! Can I use your shower? I feel so gross!"

"Couple o' questions first," Stiles says, ready to milk this for all it's worth until he realizes that Derek genuinely looks terrified. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" Derek's obviously being sarcastic, but his words don't have the bite they should.

"Not really. No." Stiles stands up and goes to Derek, putting his hands in Derek's hoodie pockets, too. "What happened?"

"I was at work," Derek says, leaning forward to put his forehead on Stiles' shoulder. "Kate showed up in my aisle."

"Ms. Argent?" Stiles asked, confused. Derek _liked_ Kate Argent. Why was he acting all ... traumatized?

Derek nods before continuing. "I was helping her pick out a blowtorch for this project she's doing and..." He looks up at Stiles, his eyes wide.

"What?"

"She _kissed_ me!"

"You know, the vehement disgust in your voice makes me feel ten times better about the fact that my _boyfriend_ was just kissed by a _teacher_! Well, not exactly a teacher-teacher, but a member of the school staff anyway. Aren't there _laws_ about this sort of thing?" So Stiles tends to ramble when confronted with the unthinkable. It's how he deals.

Derek pulls away and puts his hands into his hair. "I don't know! All this time, I just thought she wanted to _help_!"

"If it makes you feel any better," Stiles says, putting on his most smug grin, "I knew I hated her for a good reason."

Derek turns his bitch face on Stiles and huffs. "Not the time for I-told-you-soes." He shudders. "I need to shower for a week."

"Hang on," Stiles says, his hand wrapped around Derek's arm to keep him from heading upstairs. "You don't want to destroy evidence."

"Evidence? She kissed me and I ran away. What evidence?"

Stiles tips his head back and calls to the house at large, "Dad? What's the charge for an adult laying a big, fat smackaroo on a minor?"

The sheriff comes into the foyer from the TV room, saying, "Probably some sort of assault. Why? What happened?"

Stiles gives Derek a chance to answer for himself, but when he doesn't, Stiles tells the sheriff, "The school nurse stalked Derek to his work and attacked him with a kiss."

The sheriff blinks at Stiles a few times before turning his attention to Derek. "Is that at all true?"

"It's true," Derek says numbly. "I thought she liked the way I play lacrosse."

"I'll bet," the sheriff says darkly. "I'm going to call your parents. See what they want to do about this. Frankly, pressing charges probably isn't going to do much good."

"Dad!" Stiles cries, scandalized. "We can't do _nothing_!"

The sheriff rolls his eyes. "I was _going_ to say that getting Ms. Argent fired from her job would be more effective. Did anyone see her kiss you?"

Derek sighs. "I don't think so."

"Right. Well, after I talk to your parents, I'll go by the store and ask around, maybe get some security tapes. Gerard Argent is going to pull for his daughter and pull hard, but you've got me on your side, kid."

"And me," Stiles insists. Derek let's Stiles pull him into a hug.

After the sheriff is gone on his business and Derek took the longest shower Stiles had ever witnessed, redressing in some of Stiles' clean clothes, they lay out together on Stiles' bed.

"What if I'm not actually that good?" Stiles can tell Derek means at lacrosse. "What if Coach only ever told me I might make captain because Kate was twisting his arm? What if I suck?"

"You don't," Stiles insists. "I'm the one who sucks. Always stuck on the bench."

Derek opens his mouth like he's going to protest, but then he shuts it again. Stiles huffs.

Then Stiles gets an idea. "Hey. How about I help you with extra practices? Maybe I'll actually get off the bench before the end of the season and you'll get so good they'll _have_ to make you Captain."

Derek shifts and props himself up half on top of Stiles, chest-to-chest. "You think that would work?"

"Couldn't hurt," Stiles says with a shrug. He grins and trails a finger up Derek's arm, over his shoulder, and down his back. "And after practices, we could crawl into your back seat..."

Derek smiles and ducks down to press a kiss against Stiles' lips. Stiles had been worried that Derek would be kiss-traumatized for a good while, but apparently Stiles' mouth is too tempting. When Derek pulls back, he says, "That sounds like a euphemism. 'Crawl into my back seat.'"

Stiles gives a surprised laugh. Derek's sense of humor always makes itself known at the strangest moments. "If it is a euphemism, then I totally want to do it. Crawl right up into your back seat and go to fucking _town_!"

Derek presses Stiles' shoulders down with his hands and lifts up, pinning Stiles down under his weight. "You wish, Stilinski!"

Stiles can tell he's still joking, because of the way the edges of Derek's eyes crinkle up. He smiles up at Derek and lets his voice go soft as he says, "Duh. I wish lots of things about you and me, baby."

Derek doesn't ask what those wishes are, but he must be a mind reader, because over the next few minutes, he does more than a few of them without even asking.


End file.
